#combeferre x prouvaire | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

expired-applejuice · 2 years ago

Text

Incorrect quotes part 4

Javert: hold the fuck up!

Les Amis: *hugs Grantaire aka their fuck up*

Valjean: *shatters a window and climbs through it*

Valjean: *turns around and helps Cosette through it* Breaking and entering is wrong Cosette.

Cosette: Okay.

Combeferre, trying to get Enjolras out of bed: Don't make me get the water bucket.

Enjolras: You wouldn't.

Courfeyrac: *walking past dripping wet* Yes, he would.

Montparnasse: What if fairies were real?

Jehan: What?

Montparnasse: Faries. What if they were actually real?

Jehan: W-wait...faries aren't r-real?

Montparnasse: Of course they're not-

Jehan: "tearing up*

Montparnasse: HAHAHA TRICKED YOU FARIES ARE REAL JUST KIDDING! Please don't cry I love you

Bossuet: You know, I'm starting to regret showing you how that blender works.

Grantaire, drinking toast: Why do you say that?

Courfeyrac: ooh can I have some?

Bossuet: COURFEYRAC DID YOU EAT THE COOKIES I MADE

Courfeyrac: there was cookies?!

Bossuet: yes. And you ate them

Courfeyrac: no I didn't

Bossuet: then where are they?

Joly, walking in: *mouth full* these are some good cookies

Bahorel: I'm going to bed.

Feuilly: It's noon.

Bahorel: Time isn't real.

Enjolras: Grantaire, you risked your life to save me!

Grantaire: And I'd do it again! And perhaps a third time! But that would be it. <3

Javert: Alright. Time for a new team-building exercise. We're going to put everything we love into this box.

Montparnasse: Can I put Jehan in the box?

Javert: No.

Courfeyrac: Can I put Jehan in the box?

Javert. No.

Grantaire: Can I-

Javert: No one can put Jehan in the box!!

Enjolras: This is a terrible team-building exercise!

Grantaire: So, you like cats?

Enjolras: Yeah, I do. They're cute.

Grantaire: *slowly pushes a glass of the counter*

Enjolras: Combeferre, I told you to take out the trash.

Combeferre: Oh, right! Sorry!

Combeferre: Courfeyrac, will you go on a date with me?

Courfeyrac:

Combeferre: Okay, I'm going to get the wedding cake.

Courfeyrac: Perfect, while you do that I'll check on the ring bear.

Combeferre: ...

Combeferre: You mean ring bearER, right?

Courfeyrac: ...

Combeferre: Look me in the eyes and tell me you are not going to bring a dangerous wild animal to our wedding.

Musichetta: Isn't it amazing what friends learn from one another?

Joly: I learn a lot from Grantaire because he makes so many mistakes.

Grantaire: Why were you up yesterday until 3am?

Bahorel: How did you know I was up until 3am?

Feuilly: everyone could hear you clapping to the FRIENDS theme song every 25 minutes.

Grantaire: Whoa, you're being a little-

Combeferre, who hasn't slept in 4 days because he was studying: Truculent? Obstreperous? Recalcitrant?

Grantaire: I was gonna say "cray-cray".

Courfeyrac: You know you've made it when you see your picture up everywhere you go.

Enjolras: Courfeyrac... Those are our wanted posters.

Grantaire: The Ocean is a soup.

Combeferre:

Combeferre: Do elaborate.

Grantaire: What are needed for something to be a soup?

Combeferre: Erm... Water, salt, some form of vegetation, and personally I prefer some meat in mine.

Grantaire: *Tilts head*

Combeferre: The Ocean is a Soup.

Grantaire: The Ocean is a Soup.

Bossuet: Okay, it's obvious that you're not over this whole "Grantaire, you are incapable of believing, of thinking, of willing, of living, and of dying" thing, yet.

Grantaire: What makes you say that?

Joly: We found you in the park throwing rocks at children.

Grantaire: WHY SHOULD THEY BE HAPPY?!?

Musichetta: How did you break your leg?

Eponine: Do you see those porch stairs?

Musichetta: Yes.

Eponine: I didn't.

Grantaire: Hey Apollo? If my apartment burned down would you let me stay with you?

Enjolras: Yes of course I would!

Enjolras: Wait... Grantaire?

Enjolras: Grantaire come back!!!

Bahorel: We both look very handsome tonight.

Feuilly: You know you could have just said looked good and I would have said "So do you?"

Bahorel: ... I couldn't take that chance.

Courfeyrac: What's the word for when your hands are bisexual?

Combeferre: Do you mean ambidextrous?

Courfeyrac: I'm in love with you.

Valjean: so I have this rock, it's very beautiful. Javert gave it to me.

Fantine: I watched him throw it at you

Valjean: he's very sweet.

321 notes · View notes

cherriiramen · 2 years ago

Text

I FINALLY FOUND THE PROPER TRANSLATION TO THIS SONG

!! SPOILERS AHEAD !!

Not many are familiar with the anime adaption of Les Mis “Shoujo Cosette” and I find it quite saddening to realise as it was something that practically made up my ENTIRE childhood and even years later, it hits harder than ever. (psst psst it’s actually what introduced me to Les Mis in the first place, most my fellow Arabs know where I’m coming from here 👁)

I’m aware that very few are fans of this version, and the rest either aren’t familiar with it or dislike it for the small changes in storyline and character designs. Or the fact that it they had to mild it down a little for younger audiences. It never got the recognition it deserved unfortunately and it gathered dust as I grew older, but I always rewatch it whenever I can for nostalgia. And since I don’t see many posts on it, I wanted to give it a shot myself as a huge fan of this version myself and see how others find it. Hopefully more fans would sprout out or join the squad. 😌

Before I strand away from the main point of this post, I finally managed to find the English translation to that somber little Japanese song that played in the background as the barricade boys died.

“Watashi ni dekiru koto” which roughly translates to “Something I can do”

This by far might be the only version without background noises available, because as I said, this anime sadly isn’t very popular.

youtube

Let’s hope it stays there and YouTube doesn’t eventually decide to demolish it off the face of earth 172627 years late.💀

To finally understand the lyrics hits even harder, especially when it could literally be taken into Grantaire’s perspective of Enjolras and the whole life or death situation.

Something I Can Do

All the time, I have taken pride in your courage.

I wonder what I can do now?

No matter who you were, you would lose sight of the future sometimes.

If I ever want to start over, it’s because I’m by your side.

The word “happiness” is too far away; I can’t reach it.

Your precious wish, I pray that it would be granted.

Say, look, even the blooming flowers in the fields have a strong will to live on.

Even if a cold rain strikes against them, they’ll only shine more.

To live on is to fight; that’s what I believe in, no matter when.

I will give you, the one I love so much, a heartwarming thank you.

For someone who can’t be replaced, I’ll love you with all my heart.

You have taught me sadness, that’s the best thing ever.

And so, open the new door and slowly go forth..

And for those who want context, I went on my own little research to find this scene

38 notes · View notes

whooly-shep · 2 years ago

Text

Beep Me Boo Me (if you wanna reach me) Update

Enjolras asks the gc for help and someone gets framed for a high crime

Chapter 2 here

0 notes

sharkemojis · 9 months ago

Text

Posting everything I have already written over the next few days. About five or six chapters or something. If u even care.

Okay... go read it or something... oh my god im gonna throw up what if it sucks so bad...

32 notes · View notes

syrupsyche · 8 months ago

Text

If you're looking for a fic that has:

Marisette being a BAMF gothic couple

(short-lived) vampire!Enjolras and an angsty exR ending

Seward!Combeferre and Van Helsing!Prouvaire

the Power of Friendship

then you might enjoy my Dracula x Les Mis fic!! It's a gift fic for @/feathraly for the Discorinthe anniversary exchange and I had a ton of fun writing it, so do take a look if you think you'll have fun reading it too :D

#sorry for the abundance of doodles I have for this one fic #turns out when you spend two months working on a singular thing #all your misc. doodles start to just be about that thing #les mis #les mis fanfic #cosette #cosette fauchelevent #marius pontmercy #grantaire #enjolras #combeferre #jean prouvaire #syrup art tag #syrup writing

62 notes · View notes

thepenguinandthefiend · 4 months ago

Text

Hartley's F/Os - Part 2

Platonic

Nyla Rose (AEW) Danhausen (AEW) Rory Regan (Arrow) Roy Harper (DC Comics) Jonathan Crane (DC Comics) Edward Nigma (DC Comics) Conner Kent (DC Comics) Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice: the Musical) Yukio Okumura (Blue Exorcist) Will "Dex" Pointdexter (Check, Please) Onomatopoeia (DC Comics) Edwin Payne (Dead Boy Detectives) Topher Brink (Dollhouse) Jo Mullein (Green Lantern) Peeta Mellark (Hunger Games) Jaysen Caulfield (Ice Breaker) Nina Rosario (In the Heights) Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer) Eliot Waugh (The Magicians) Tabitha Smith (Marvel Comics) Maya Lerner (Obliterated) Cassidy (Preacher) Wallace Wells (Scott Pilgrim) Winn Schott (Supergirl) Charlie Bradbury (Supernatural) Ragdoll (Secret Six) Daken Akihiro (X-Men) Loki (Young Avengers) Todd Brotzman (Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency) Amanda Brotzman (Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency) Elton Prince (WWE) Kit Wilson (WWE) Courfeyrac (Les Miserables) Combeferre (Les Miserables) Grantaire (Les Miserables) Jehan Prouvaire (Les Miserables) Joly (Les Miserables) Bossuet (Les Miserables) Bahorel (Les Miserables) Feuilly (Les Miserables)

2 notes · View notes

nerfherdingteleporter · 2 years ago

Text

I have wifi and nobody can stop me, so:

The X-Men Movie characters I pictured as barricade boys when I read Les Miserables last summer

Enjolras: Shadowcat. Main Character Energy, Absolutely Not Hetero (canonically bisexual, and also pictured as Elliot Page bc of course), sometimes you just gotta picture your faves getting killed

Grantaire: Iceman. I'm determined to make that love triangle from The Last Stand work, and I think it kinda does. Minus Rogue, who was Adult Cosette.

Marius: Quicksilver (Evan Peters). This was essentially the result of not having anyone else with an extended family to picture as the Pontmercys, but I think it turned out okay

Courfeyrac: Cyclops (Tye Sheridan) more or less because he was there? I definitely had a reason at the time.

Bahorel: Pyro. The hothead.

Combeferre: Beast (Nicholas Hoult). The Smart One.

Feuilly: Storm (Alexandria Shipp). I have very little justification for this one, I'm afraid, but I wanted Storm to get in it and I was running out of revolutionaries

Jean Prouvaire: Nightcrawler (Kodi Smit-McPhee) for about the same reasons as Storm

Bousset: Alex Summers. I believe there was a tenuous link with Courfeyrac.

Joly: Darwin. Let's just say there's subtext with Bousset.

Eponine: Jean Grey (Sophie Turner). I figured Phoenix would be good with the level of passion required to manipulate your crush into a fatal situation and then die for him. (Eponine's sister Azelma wound up as Maisie Williams for purely Game of Thrones trasons)

Gavroche: okay. I know Walker Scobell never played an X-Man, but they don't have that many kids around, X-23 was already Young Cosette, and this was the maximum era of Percy Jackson tv hype.

Everyone was an X-Man, and for that I'm placing the ultimate blame/credit solely on Hugh Jackman's shoulders.

#les mis #x men #im not tagging all of them #barricade boys #adding to the madness #les miserables

1 note · View note

yeahnorightsure · 4 years ago

Text

indulge me and go watch The Bread Series on youtube

204 notes · View notes

chrysalismandtea · 3 months ago

Text

i did it again!!!!!!!!!! i got too emotionally attached to a fanfic and now that i finished it i’m an empty shell of a person!!!!!!!!!!

also, to everyone that recommended world ain’t ready: you’re officially on my favourite-people-in-the-world list, and i didn’t even have one before now anyway THANK YOU

36 notes · View notes

wild-oats-and-cornflowers · 6 years ago

Text

Here is my barricade day 2019 contribution! Everyone else seems to have the Angst And Death angle covered, so I’m going a different way, and bring you 100% guaranteed sadness-free shippy fluff. You know, in case people need an emotional hanky or something :D

Title: Convergence

Summary, as posted on AO3:

“Ordinarily he enjoyed a good walk, but today he found himself wishing that Combeferre lived just a little closer to his own rooms. But cold weather or not, it had become something of a routine with the two of them to visit each other’s rooms on Saturday afternoons, to share books and dinner and conversation, and Combeferre had come to him last week, so it was only fair.

Prouvaire and Combeferre find that they've grown closer than they realized.”

Fic below the cut:

Chapter 1: Prouvaire (There will be a ch. 2, but I need to write it first)

Gray clouds scudded along overhead and a thin, cutting wind went skirling up the street, disturbing the light dusting of snow that lay scattered across the cobblestones. Jean Prouvaire shivered slightly as the breeze snaked a cold tendril down his collar, pulling his coat up more tightly around his neck. Ordinarily he enjoyed a good walk, but today he found himself wishing that Combeferre lived just a little closer to his own rooms. But cold weather or not, it had become something of a routine with the two of them to visit each other’s rooms on Saturday afternoons, to share books and dinner and conversation, and Combeferre had come to him last week, so it was only fair.

Combeferre greeted Prouvaire with a smile and an inquiry as to whether he had read the essay on freedom of the will that Combeferre had recommended last week. He had, and they wrangled pleasantly over the points raised by the article while Combeferre made soup and Prouvaire poked around among the rock and mineral specimens currently taking up much of the surface of Combeferre’s desk. The last time he had been there, the desktop had featured anatomical specimens instead. Although the stones he was now investigating offered significantly less invitation to contemplate the ineffable nature of human mortality, Prouvaire had to admit that they also offered significantly less insult to his nose.

The soup was finished, and they shared it, the conversation turning from philosophical questions to a discussion of the play Combeferre had attended two nights prior. Prouvaire, who had seen it three weeks previously and had been urging his friend to go ever since, was delighted to find several of his own opinions on the plot and acting shared, and almost as delighted to argue about the areas on which they differed.

“Oh!” Combeferre interrupted himself in the middle of explaining to a mildly indignant Prouvaire why he felt that the lead actress had not carried a particular scene as well as she could have done. “I forgot, I found that novel you were interested in. I hadn’t loaned it out after all; it had fallen behind the other books on the shelf.” He hopped up from the table and went over to one of the bookshelves. Prouvaire gathered the dishes and put them in the dishpan---“Thanks,” said Combeferre---took the novel, and sprawled inelegantly and happily on the divan, while Combeferre settled himself in the armchair set at right angles to it and opened a treatise on geology. They had developed a habit, at these times, of alternating reading with conversation. Prouvaire would have found this deeply irritating had anyone else tried it. To be spoken to, intruded on, while deep in a book, was one of his least favorite things. But all the summer and autumn and into the beginning of winter in which they now found themselves, he had gradually begun accepting it from Combeferre alone until now it bothered him not at all. It had long ceased to feel like an intrusion and had become a way in which Prouvaire felt that they communicated the closeness into which they had grown.

The chiming of the clock on the mantle, in a stretch of quiet, startled both of them. December brought the darkness early, and Combeferre had lit the lamp not long after they began to read. They had not noticed the progression of the hours. “Ten o’clock!” said Prouvaire in surprise. “I had not meant to stay so late.”

“These evenings always do go by too soon,” Combeferre said, smiling.

As Prouvaire collected his outerwear, Combeferre went to the window and pulled the curtains open. “Hmm,” he said, peering out into the darkness.

“Hmm?” Prouvaire was trying to remember where he had put his gloves.

“It looks a bit fierce outside.”

Prouvaire discovered the gloves in the pocket of his overcoat and extracted them triumphantly. “Is it snowing?” he said.

“Quite a lot, actually. Look.”

Prouvaire padded over and looked. The lamps were lit in the street below, but there was not much street to be seen. It was thickly covered and sparkling in the lamplight, and the air was filled with whirling whiteness. “Hmm,” Prouvaire said.

“My sentiments exactly.” Combeferre rubbed his chin. “It might be a good idea for you to stay the night here. It does not look very, ah, hospitable outside.” He returned to his chair and picked up his geology treatise again.

“I suppose you are right.” Prouvaire tossed his outer garments in the general direction of the trunk on which he had originally draped them. “Hopefully there will be less weather in the morning, and your bed was certainly big enough for two the last time I stayed over.” The last time he had stayed over, they had both been drinking, and Prouvaire, who tended to be a very affectionate drunk, had wakened the following morning to find himself practically on top of Combeferre, hugging his arm. He chuckled slightly at the memory and glanced over at Combeferre, expecting to find his amusement shared, but Combeferre was staring down at the book in his lap, looking, Prouvaire was surprised to note, vaguely uncomfortable. He made no reply, and after a moment Prouvaire went back to the divan and took up his novel again.

He made a few attempts to resume the intermittent conversation, but Combeferre responded to his sallies only in short phrases and kept his eyes fixed on the page in front of him. Combeferre seems to have grown a bit uneasy, Prouvaire thought. He will not look at me. Why? Aloud he asked, “Is everything all right?” Combeferre jumped slightly. “Yes,” he answered tardily, flushing. That is a lie, Prouvaire thought. But Combeferre never tells lies. He hesitated, then said “Forgive me, but you seem a bit tense. Are you certain it is not a problem for me to stay here tonight?”

“Of course it isn’t,” Combeferre answered. “Why would it be?” But his voice carried a standoffish note that troubled Prouvaire. “Well,” he said. “Only you are twitching a bit, and there is a certain tone in your voice. Have I done or said something to upset you?”

“It is nothing for you to worry about. Read your book.”

Prouvaire felt the sting of the brush-off as if Combeferre had lightly slapped him. Hurt, and wanting real reassurance, he pressed on, despite knowing underneath that it was unwise, “But if I---”

“Let it be,” Combeferre interrupted him brusquely, and his voice this time held a real edge.

A baffled soreness expanded in Prouvaire’s chest. He attempted to return to his novel, but he felt his face burning and knew he would not be able to focus on the story. Abruptly he sat up straight, slapping the covers loudly shut. He got up off the divan and stalked over to the door, where he sat down on the floor and grabbed his boots.

“What are you doing?” demanded Combeferre in a tone of mild alarm.

“I am very sorry,” Prouvaire said stiffly from the floor, “for having offended you, and if you do not wish to discuss it, you are within your rights not to do so, but as I do not wish to upset you any further, I am going home.” He yanked at a boot crossly.

“For heaven’s sake, Prouvaire. You cannot walk home in this weather.”

“I can do a great many things,” Prouvaire informed him, one boot off and one boot on, “and I do not require your permission for any of them. Anyway, there may be a fiacre or so that I can hire.”

“It is vanishingly unlikely that there will be such…” Combeferre began, then sighed. He rose and came a few paces towards Prouvaire, then stopped. “I assure you,” he said, “that you have done nothing wrong. It is only…something I was thinking of for a moment, that caused me to be sharp. I should not have snapped at you. I am sorry.”

Combeferre looked both anxious and genuinely penitent. Prouvaire felt all at once extraordinarily affectionate towards him, and also slightly embarrassed about his outburst. “Oh, well,” he mumbled, tugging at the heel of his boot. “If you are quite sure it’s all right?”

“Yes, quite. Please don’t go running out into the snow on my behalf.” The corner of Combeferre’s mouth quirked upwards slightly in a way Prouvaire had seen dozens of times but which he suddenly found extremely charming. He smiled fondly up at his friend and said, “Then I will sleep chez toi tonight after all.” Combeferre’s mouth un-quirked and a peculiar expression crossed his face. He nodded and turned hastily back towards his chair as Prouvaire rose from the floor.

Prouvaire re-ensconced himself on the divan, this time curled up into the corner near Combeferre’s chair. For some reason he could not articulate, he felt a desire to be physically near him. Sudden, impulsive desires to do arbitrary things were not an uncommon experience for Prouvaire, and he generally indulged them if they did not seem likely to cause trouble. He did not question this one any more than he usually did, merely accepted it. Soon he was lost in the pages of his novel again. The heroine was the most absurdly melodramatic fictional character Prouvaire had ever encountered, and her adventures wildly improbable. It was an enchanting tome, and it rendered him quite insensible to his surroundings until the heroine’s father said something that was so very Combeferre-esque that it propelled him back to reality.

Intending to read the passage aloud to Combeferre and demand of him, isn’t that exactly the kind of thing you always say, Prouvaire looked over at his friend. He was surprised to see that Combeferre had not apparently returned to the world of geology---the book lay open on his lap, but he was staring at the floor with a serious, pensive expression on his face. It may not be me, Prouvaire thought, but something truly is bothering him. Driven by another of those inarticulate impulses, he pulled himself up onto the arm of the divan on his elbow. He leaned towards Combeferre and said “Er…”

Combeferre started and turned towards him. “Yes?” he said, pushing his spectacles farther up the bridge of his nose.

“I, ah, I don’t mean to pry,” Prouvaire said diffidently, “and you don’t---I mean, if you don’t want to talk about it, that really is fine, it’s your business, but it is only, you know, you looked unhappy, so I thought, I don’t know, maybe, is there anything I can do? To help, or make you feel better---” He cut himself off there, knowing he was babbling. He felt his face grow warm as Combeferre’s assumed an expression he had not seen before, a curious softness of the eyes accompanied by a faint, gentle curving of the mouth. Suddenly abashed, Prouvaire dropped his head like a child. “Anyway,” he said.

Long, sturdy fingers gently tilted his chin back up, then retreated. Combeferre was regarding him thoughtfully, from a disconcertingly close vantage point. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then hesitated. “It’s nice to have you here,” he said finally. Prouvaire thought, I don’t know what you started out to say, but I’ll wager that wasn’t it.

“It’s nice to be here,” he replied anyway, feeling an obscure need to make conversation. “I like your rooms. I like ransacking your bookshelves and investigating your minerals and moths and such. And---” he felt his breath catch oddly. “I like the company I find here very much. Very much, actually.” He fought the urge to look away again.

Combeferre was looking pensive once more, but he did not appear unhappy. “Well,” he said slowly, “I am honored. Thank you.” He tilted his head a bit, as though Prouvaire were a curious specimen which he was examining. His hair fell softly over his forehead, shining in the lamplight. His eyes behind the lenses of his spectacles were large and luminous and solemn. Prouvaire thought, I could look at him like this forever. Without even thinking about it, he leaned forward and kissed him. For a moment, he thought that Combeferre would pull away, but then his hand came up to cradle the back of Prouvaire’s head as he leaned into the kiss.

They broke for air. Combeferre’s hand gently slid downwards to curl around the back of Prouvaire’s neck, eliciting a shiver from him. He smiled into Combeferre’s eyes and said, “Yes, very much.”

Combeferre dropped his head. His shoulders shook with quiet laughter. “You,” he said. “Me,” Prouvaire agreed happily.

Combeferre looked up again, laughter fading. He took his hand away and sat back in his chair, biting at his thumbnail absently. He said, “Jehan.” Prouvaire blinked. Combeferre was not generally given to the use of nicknames. “Have you thought about this, or are you just moving on impulse?”

Intellectually, Prouvaire supposed it was a fair question, given his tendency to spontaneity and the fact that this was all new ground. Nonetheless, it made him flinch. He said hesitantly, “I…I don’t know…it felt right, and I…” He cast about for the words to explain himself. “I think…I think I have wanted to do that for a long time. Only I didn’t know it, or didn’t understand it. It’s as if…as if something fell into its proper place…” He trailed off, frustrated at his inability to translate his own meaning properly. I am ordinarily very good at articulating myself, he thought, why do my faculties desert me.

Combeferre was frowning slightly; Prouvaire interpreted the expression as disapproval, and was taken aback by the stab of pain it generated. He felt hot tears rise in his eyes in response and curled in on himself a little, turning his face away from Combeferre and twisting his hands together in his lap. He heard Combeferre exhale sharply through his nose and push his chair back a bit, and then he was on the divan beside Prouvaire, laying a hand on his arm. “Jehan,” he said again, gently.

“I’m sorry,” Prouvaire muttered.

“No.” Combeferre embraced him, very carefully, and a little awkwardly. “No, Jehan, don’t…” He broke off and dropped a light kiss on Prouvaire’s temple. Prouvaire leaned his forehead into Combeferre’s shoulder. “Have you thought about this,” he whispered, “is that what you were thinking about earlier, that made you uneasy?”

“Well,” said Combeferre. He did not elaborate, but he tightened his hold on Prouvaire slightly.

Prouvaire took this for an affirmation. He felt an upwelling of tenderness in his soul, almost more than he could bear. Lightheaded with it, he wrapped his own arms around Combeferre’s waist and pressed his face into the soft fabric of his loosely tied cravat. He felt Combeferre bring one hand up to pet his hair, then push his collar down to stroke the back of his neck, feather-light. The sensation sent another shiver down Prouvaire’s spine and he turned his head slightly to press his lips against the side of Combeferre’s throat. He was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath, and, encouraged by this, pulled back a bit so that he could hook one arm around Combeferre’s neck and kiss his mouth again.

Combeferre matched his enthusiasm, pulling Prouvaire as close as he could; in fact, he pulled him in a little too tightly, causing Prouvaire to overbalance and knock Combeferre over onto his back, falling atop him in an ungraceful tangle. Both lay startled for a moment, then they began to laugh. Prouvaire’s left arm was pinned between Combeferre and the divan. They were pressed so tightly together that Prouvaire could feel Combeferre’s every breath, the shaking of his laughter, the hard edge of his hipbone under Prouvaire’s own. He swallowed and raised his free hand to softly run a single fingertip along the smooth curve of Combeferre’s cheekbone, to trace the delicate outline of his mouth. Combeferre looked up at him earnestly. He turned his head a little to kiss Prouvaire’s fingers, then smiled warmly at him. Prouvaire’s breath caught almost painfully in his throat. He thought, You are the most beautiful thing my eyes have ever seen or will see.

Later, they lay in bed together, Prouvaire’s head resting on Combeferre’s shoulder. Idly, he traced small circles on Combeferre’s arm with a fingertip, watching the shadow on the wall echo his movement. He wondered lazily whether such a state of perfect contentment could be considered an example of the sublime. There was nothing grand or crashing or dramatic about it, but his whole being seemed to be quietly vibrating with a subtle and pervasive joy that he could not recall ever experiencing before. His soul was brimming with Combeferre like a glass of water filled to the absolute edge, to the point where one more drop would send the rest pouring out in a torrent. Prouvaire let his hand rest on Combeferre’s bicep. He half-shut his eyes, breathing slowly to try and contain himself.

Combeferre, holding Prouvaire close, pressed his cheek against the top of his head. This was the last drop needed to cause an overflow. Prouvaire flopped over onto his stomach and furiously pressed his lips against Combeferre’s, burrowing one hand under his head and gripping his shoulder with the other. “You have entirely too much energy,” Combeferre informed him when they broke off. His eyes seemed wider than usual now that his spectacles lay on the table by the bed, rather than sitting on his nose. Probably they were having to work harder to see, Prouvaire thought. He rather liked the effect of surprised guilelessness it created. “I have precisely the necessary amount of energy, actually,” he said.

“Didn’t you burn any off just now?”

“No,” Prouvaire lied. He was rather tired now that he thought about it, but he didn’t want to go to sleep. He wanted to stay awake so he could look at and talk to and touch Combeferre.

Combeferre chuckled. “You,” he said fondly. Then, “Oh…it occurs to me. It’s rather a cold night---let me fetch a couple of nightshirts before…”

“No nightshirts,” Prouvaire stated firmly, depositing a kiss on Combeferre’s bare chest.

“You are impossible.” Combeferre pulled Prouvaire down next to him. “Lie quietly for a bit, won’t you? I’m tired, even if you are not.”

“Oh very well,” Prouvaire said, draping himself half over top of Combeferre and pressing his face into his shoulder. Combeferre turned his head and lightly kissed Prouvaire’s forehead.

“Good night,” he said.

Good, thought Prouvaire, beginning to relax into drowsiness, was not quite sufficient a descriptor. Marvelous might do better, or lovely, or enchanting, or…and before he could continue listing preferable adjectives, he was asleep.

#les mis #fan fiction #my fic #barricade day #no sads here #just fluff #combeferre #jean prouvaire #combeferre x prouvaire #it is SFW btw #s/o to the approximately 2 other people who ship this #les miserables

9 notes · View notes

lilyslark · 3 years ago

Text

can we appreciate when Grantaire calls Enjolras “Enj” in fanfictions ?? “Enj” sounds just like “ange”, which means “angel” in French—so Enjolras is Grantaire’s angel, but what else is new

#imsuresomeonehasalreadysaidthisbut #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #les amis #e x r #les mis #victor hugo #les miz #les miserables #the brick #courfeyrac #combeferre #jean prouvaire #feuilly

588 notes · View notes

expired-applejuice · 2 years ago

Text

Part 5 of incorrect quotes

Bahorel: Guys, there's a monster under my bed and it's really ugly.

Grantaire, on the bottom bunk: Honestly, fuck you.

Cosette: i made a Marshmallow Inspector Javert.

Cosette: see? his arms are crossed because he's mad at Marshmallow Valjean for escaping him.

Cosette: you like it?

Javert:

Javert: *choked up* it's fine.

Courfeyrac: Once again, Courfeyrac and Combeferre save the day.

Enjolras: You didn't do anything It was all Combeferre.

Courfeyrac: We're a package deal. Everybody knows that.

Grantaire: Hello, fellow idiots

Enjolras: Hello, Grantaire

Grantaire: No, no, not you, you're not an idiot

Enjolras: You underestimate me

*Combeferre is cooking*

Grantaire: Any chance that's for me?

Combeferre: It's for Courfeyrac. I'm planning on making some bad choices tonight, and I need him on my side.

Enjolras: I never realized the forethought that went into being a disappointment

Enjolras: Feuilly isn't answering his phone

Bahorel: I'll call

Combeferre: Enjolras and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi-

Feuilly: Hello?

Javert: God, give me patience.

Valjean: I think you mean "give me strength".

Javert: No, You better hope God doesn't give me strength because if he did, you'd be dead.

Joly: Hey, Bossuet? What does IDK, ILY, and TTYL mean?

Bossuet: i don't know, I love you, talk to you later.

Joly: Oh, okay, I'll just ask Musichetta. I love you too.

Bossuet:

Jehan: You have to apologize.

Montparnasse: Fine, but this might make me a better and more likable person and that is not the man you fell in love with!

Someone may have done this

*playing truth or dare*

Eponine: Okay, truth or dare?

Grantaire: Dare.

Eponine: Kiss the next person who arrives.

Grantaire: Gross, I'm not kissing any of you. None of you are my type.

*Enjolras walks in*

Grantaire:

Grantaire, using breath stray and putting on chapstick: Well, a dare's a dare.

Courfeyrac: You know my motto: carpe diem, carpe noctem, carpe coles.

Marius: Seize the day, seize the night, what's the last one?

Courfeyrac: Seize the dick.

Grantaire: mean, sure, I have my bad days. But then I remember what a cute smile Apollo has.

Combeferre: *seductively takes off glasses*

Combeferre: Wow...

Courfeyrac, blushing: Haha... what?

Combeferre: You're really fucking blurry.

Bossuet: Hey, babe.

Joly: Hmm?

Bossuet: I need your help with a math problem.

Joly: Oh, sure! What do you need?

Bossuet: How do you simplify 2i<6u?

Joly: i<3u

Bossuet: Awww, i<3u too!

Joly:

Enjolras, texting Bossuet: Send dudes

Bossuet: You mean-

Bossuet: You mean send nudes??!

Enjolras: No, we crashed the funeral and I'm bleeding. Send Grantaire

Grantaire: *already ran out the door*

Combeferre: I know every song to ever exist, doesn't matter when it was made.

Enjolras: Oh, yeah?

Grantaire: Finish this; I don't cook, I don't clean-

Combeferre: but let me tell you how got this ring,

Combeferre, Grantaire, and Courfeyrac, who came out of no were: GOBBLE ME, SWALLOW ME, DRIP DOWN THE SIDE OF ME-

*undercover*

Eponine: You don't think can fight because I'm a girl.

Marius: 'Ponie I don't think you can fight because you're in a wedding dress. To be fair, don't think Bahorel could fight in that either.

Bahorel: No, but I'd make a bomb ass wife.

Valjean: You're pouting.

Javert: I'm not pouting, I'm brooding.

Valjean: That's how pretty men pout.

Valjean, picking up his phone: Javert? I'm kind of busy right now-

Javert: Do you think drinking thirty-six cans of Redbull consecutively would heighten my senses or would I just die?

Valjean:

Valjean: I'm on my way.

Eponine: Bitches be like "I'm baby" but have childhood trauma and were neglected.

Eponine: Like what do you know about being baby? You were forced to grow up from an early age.

Eponine:

Everyone else:

Eponine: It's me. I'm bitches.

Gavroche, sighing: We know.

Feuilly: Y'all ever get so tired you see spiders?

Grantaire: Me when I take seventeen Benadryl and start seeing the Hat Man.

Jehan: THE WHAT?

Grantaire: Oh, so this is suddenly not a safe space?

Courfeyrac: Relationships should be 50/50; Combeferre cooks dinner while I sit on the counter looking pretty.

Bahorel: Not everyone likes you, Montparnasse. You aren't Feuilly.

Montparnasse: Not everyone likes Feuilly??

Enjolras, coming out of no where: Who?

Montparnasse:

Bahorel, cracking his knuckles: we need names, Montparnasse.

Musichetta: Can you two cut me some slack? I'm sort of in love.

Joly: I'm sorry, but that's really not our problem.

Musichetta: I'm in love with you both.

Bossuet, blushing: Oh... that brings us into the loop a little.

Combeferre: I fell-

Courfeyrac: From heaven?

Combeferre: No, I literally fell-

Courfeyrac: In love with me the moment you saw me

Combeferre: MY ARM IS BROKEN, COURFEYRAC

Courfeyrac: Ok, but am I pretty? Be honest.

*Combeferre and Grantaire in a casino*

Combeferre: Grantaire, we're about to get kicked out-

Grantaire: Shush!

Combeferre: We gotta-

Grantaire: Shut up!

Combeferre: R-

Grantaire: Shh! Shush, shush, shush! Do you hear that?

Combeferre: Wha- are you drunk?

Grantaire: Yes, but listen!

Combeferre:

Grantaire:

Grantaire: It's the sound of me not giving a fuck.

Javert: We all have our demons.

Javert, pointing at Les Amis: These ones are mine.

Valjean, helping Marius stand after being wounded: You need to be careful, you're loosing a lot of blood-

Marius, loopy: I'm not "loosing" it, I know exactly where it is!

*Marius points to the puddle of his blood on the floor.*

Valjean: Oh, dear Lord, I should just leave you.

Enjolras, making his third cup of coffee: Why are my hands so shaky?

Combeferre, on his fifth: Your skeleton is ready to hatch.

Montparnasse, to Feuilly: What's the first thing you notice when someone approaches you?

Bahorel, holding Feuilly's hand: The audacity.

Combeferre: Did you know-

Bahorel: That somethings are better left unsaid?

Combeferre: Nice try.

Eponine: Do you have any idea how dangerous I'd be if I had zero self doubt?

Jehan: If I were a drink, I'd be cherry vanilla coke. If you were a drink, what would you be?

Grantaire: Bleach.

Bahorel: Blood

Montparnasse: arsenic

Feuilly: Alright, calm down edgelords.

Grantaire: Dad didn't raise a quitter!

Joly: I thought your dad left?

Grantaire: Which is why I'm quitting.

Grantaire to Combeferre: Do you think I'm ugly?

Combeferre: It's not about looks, R. What's valuable is on the inside.

Grantaire, touched: Aww...

Combeferre: For example, someone's heart.

Grantaire: You're a good friend, Combeferre -

Combeferre: It can be priced at over one million US dollars, you know.

Grantaire:

Grantaire: Ok, here's my wishlist.

Musichetta: This is surprisingly reasonable.

Joly: We could probably get all this by Christmas.

Enjolras: Oh, so no one's gonna ask why I'm on the list?

Grantaire: That's more of a hope.

Enjolras: I still don't get why I'm on the list?

Bossuet, to Grantaire: Are you sure you don't want someone else?

Grantaire: Nope, I want him.

Enjolras: CAN SOMEONE PLEASE EXPLAIN WHY I'M OM THE LIST?!

*playing Would You Rather?*

Eponine: Ok, R. Would you rather die or-

Grantaire: Die.

Cosette: She hasn't even-

Grantaire: Die.

Marius: Grantaire, we talked about this...

Enjolras: I was born for politics.

Enjolras: have great hair and I'm great at lying.

Bahorel: I've thought about taking swim classes for adults, but honestly that's sadder than just drowning.

Combeferre, to Grantaire: I need 45 minutes away from you, and then we can be best friends again.

Montparnasse: *raises eyebrows *

Jehan: Put those back down

163 notes · View notes